The secret of the alchemist
by Firenze.Sun
Summary: Watson and Holmes have a new case that would make them wonder about things like sexuality and sex. Things aren't always what it seems. Hatson. T for future chapters possible M
1. Experiment companion

**A.N.: **Set somewhere after Holmes return. Hatson. Rated T for future chapters (possible M)

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**Chapter 1**

**Experiments companion**

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I write this as a last record of my memoirs as a fashion to set the true version of the happened events. Little I would care about the consequences of this relates, because the only person that could be affected by it already have their fates forged. Consequently, I shall not doubt at the time of giving names or establish with full detail the facts that happened. I could give a vaster introduction to the tragedy in which my companion and I were involved, however I do not want to make the lector –if somebody reads it –to form hasty conclusions, so I am merely going to narrate the story by the beginning.

It was almost an ordinary evening in which I found myself reading a newspaper in the living room while Holmes was making experiments in his room, when everything started. Although sometimes I doubt if that was the true day where the events were unleash, sometimes it seems to have started a lot earlier, and others, a lot later. Settle a start line is quite difficult because it is blurred with the daily routine, but it is possible for me to say that that day had some importance in the following events.

Even though I was used to sound coming from my friend's bedroom, I could not help but to move in my sit, slightly scared I must admit, every time I heard him, for then to come back to my reading. But it was not until a really strong explosion that I desisted from my try to read the paper, next u saw Sherlock Holmes getting out of the room with a quite satisfactory look in his face with black marks that probably have the same cause that the strong noises that I had heard. Behind him came out the young Robert Laurie, who worked in the same laboratory in which I had met my companion for the first time and that lately had been doing regular visits to Holmes for doing some experiments.

The young man had about twenty-five years old; his face was too delicate and rounded for a young adult, but a thin moustache broke the childlike illusion. His light chestnut hair was rather dark because of the soot of the explosions, the same as he face, and all the untidy that it could be for a hair of one inch. His build was small for a man, fitting his academic appearance, even though he had a larches shoulder separation, like the one of a person that did a lot of exercise swimming. His thin lips were curved in a smile that showed the same satisfaction that Holmes had.

I looked to my companion waiting for an explanation that I knew that he was going to give me. Holmes did not make me wait too much.

'We had a great progress,' he explained me. 'Soon we will be able to determinate the amount of hours of the shed blood.'

'So it is,' asserted young Laurie; 'but I am afraid that we won't be able to go on for to-day. To-morrow I shall wake up on the sun-rise for returning to work and after the discovery we have made I will be too excited to get to sleep easily.'

'I guess that you will give me the pleasure of meeting me to continue with our investigations.' expressed Holmes.

'It would be an honour, but undoubtedly you would have found the answer by then. Because unlike me, you will not even try to sleep. Despite the fact that you have a higher intellectual level than mine.'

'I am flattered but that's not a reason for you underestimate yourself. It is a matter of put correctly into practice the deductive methods.'

'Thank you,' said Laurie with a smile. 'All right, I should leave now, it's already raining and I do not wish to arrive home to late. Good night, Dr. Watson, Holmes.' said bending his head toward each direction.

The young man was about to leave, when the door was opened and inspector Lestrade with a firm step. The man did not seem to be surprise to the sight of our visitor; on the contrary, he fixed his look on him and said,

'Are you Mr. Robert Laurie?' asked Lestrade.

'Yes.' answered surprised the aforesaid.

'Then I must ask you to follow me. There's has been a murdered in your building in Victory Street. Your room-mate has been killed. Maybe you should come too, Holmes, and be able to give a light upon the subject.'

Laurie gaze was lost, as if he did not want to give credit to what he had just heard.

'I must deduce that you have no suspect, right?' said Holmes some vanity.

'That's right. We don't have any proper clue, for what we know it could have been anyone,' said Lestrade. 'The last person that saw Jeffrey Newton alive was the landlady. There are no facts that indicate a burglary or any other apparent reason, either he was rich or he came for any important family.' enumerated the inspector.

'Jeffrey had died?' asked Laurie in shock.

'I'm sorry to tell you so, Mr. Laurie. He was murderer today at mid-day stabbed,' informed Lestrade. 'Now I must ask you that if you wish to accompany me, we must leave now.'

The inspector head to the door taking Laurie with him, pushing him with one hand on his back, who could not get out of his astonishment. Holmes moved his body in the same direction and turning his head, said, 'Are you coming, Watson?'

I barely had time to put my hat and took my coat. On our way to the crime scene nobody said a word. Holmes was lost in his thoughts. Lestrade watched over Laurie who shocked by the news tried to hold his tears. I, moved by the pain of the young man, looked over the window in a vain try of giving him privacy. Finally, the cab stopped in front of a group of old buildings. On the walls and the floor you could see the lame try to maintain them, but with futile results. Although it has to be confess, in defence of the place, that it could have been worst, at least the place seemed solid and safe despite the apparent poverty.

A couple of officials were at the entrance, when they saw inspector Lestrade they moved aside and lets us come in. Coming trough the stairs we arrive to the floor were Laurie lived, in the hall-way there were several policemen and an old lady, probably the landlady that gave her testimony while she cried clung to a handkerchief. Finally at the door of the flat that was crowed by police officers was inspector Jones. When he saw us, he came with firm steps, gave a disparaging peer to the lab assistant and spoke, 'you brought him, I see,' said with arrogance. 'Very well, it is my duty to inform you that, Mr. Laurie that you are under arrest in the Queen's name for the murderer of Jeffrey Newton. Anything which you may say will be used against you.'

'Wait a moment,' intervened my companion. 'Based in what reasons do you base in order to suppose that my work partner is the killer?'

Based on the reason that nobody but him, save for Mrs. Wood, has the key to enter the place and door wasn't forced. Undoubtedly this has been a crime of passion, because thank to Mrs. Wood's statements we know that Mr. Newton was engaged with Miss Stewart who at the same time was friend of Mr. Laurie. Obviously, he was not comfortable with this commitment for having a special interest on Miss Stewart and he decided to take his rival out of the way.'

'That's a lie!' defended himself the accused.

'Calm down, Laurie, I'm aware of your innocence and I will proceed to prove it,' said Holmes. 'Could you tell me how you can say that he was murdered at mid-day?'

'Of course,' interceded Lestrade, quieting Jones with the look who did not want Holmes to be involved in the case. 'Mrs. Wood was the last one who saw alive Mr. Newton about twelve hours of the mid-day, when she came back at the hour he found the present scene. Immediately after, she contacted us.'

'Then it is more than clear that the young Laurie is innocent,' I claimed outraged. 'During the time when the crime was being done, Laurie was in our home.'

'Allow me to corroborate what Watson is saying, asserting that Mr. Laurie was on those moments with me doing some experiments. He didn't disappear from my view for an instant, and he only left the room moments before Lestrade arrive.'

With a resigned and frustrated sigh, and avoiding making eye contact for pride, Jones was left no other choice than release Laurie.

'All right, if you don't mind I think is time that we proceed to the crime scene.' said Lestrade displaying his professionalism.

'I couldn't agree more.' sentenced Holmes.

Next we entered into the living room that Laurie shared with the unlucky Newton. The scene that welcomed us was pretty repulsive, big puddles of blood stained the floor and the corpse's shirt was stained with red. Parts of the walls and the furniture were spattered with blood, giving signs of the brutality with which the crime was committed. The room was untidy, and despite the fact that there was a body on the floor, it did not seem to be forced, indeed it seemed more like a natural mess like the ones I was used to living with Holmes. Two doors opened to what were the bedrooms of the tenants.

However, those were details in were I put my attention later. Because naturally, I focused all my attention on the body that was on the floor. He was face down, with the rigid face in an expression of frightening and surprise. His arms were stretched on the sides of his head. But what really shocked were the stabs on the back and the deep cut in his neck. Somehow the horror that I felt remind me the sensation that I had the first time that I went with Holmes in a case. Save that this time it was the other way around, before I had felt disgusted by the victim, now it was by who ever was capable of doing such crime.

But right then, the sound of some strong steps and retches distract me from my thoughts. Laurie had went out at the hallway, and sickened by the sight of his partner he could not help but to vomit right there. Holmes looked at me and while he took out his magnifying glass, said, 'Watson, wouldn't you mind to take care of our friend?'

I came out at the hallway and took care of the young Laurie. Physically he was fine, save for the fact that he had just vomit. It took him a bit away from the room were the crime had taken place and I managed to make him sit in a corner against a wall. After a while Holmes came out, while he put away his magnifying glass, accompanied by the two inspectors. Lestrade took Laurie to Scotland Yard to take his statement and Holmes approach me.

'Do you wish to accompany me to the library?' asked. 'There are certain things that I intend to ascertain and then back in Baker Street I might share with you some theories.'

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**A.N.: **Well, this is my first SH fic, so please be good, but I'm pretty proud of it. Please, tell me if the words aren't British English or if it are too informal. The translation is hard!!

And although this might no seem complete Hatson I assure you that it will be. But hey! This is just the beginning, I mean, you won't expect that Sherlock and Watson are going to just kiss each other and that will be.

And for those who now me, the drama hasn't arrive yet!!

Also, I would like to say that I'm proud of my first OC. He is there for a good reason in the future chapter. I hope that it didn't seem to Mary-Sue, because that's not what I'm trying too...  
And plase, tell me that you figured out from where I took his name!!! Is easy just think what is my 'other' obsession!!

Hope you like it!!


	2. Point of view

**A.N.:** Well, just in the deadline ('cuz tomorrow I'm going on holidays and when I'm back I'll start college again) I finished the second chapter of my story. Finally, slash had began and some mistery are solved. but hey! It has just began!! The story will habe around five chapter, probably.

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**Chapter 2**

**Point of view**

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Sherlock Holmes was very cheerful during our journey to the library. He chatted about superfluous topics, like for example, the last play done in the theathre. Instead of going directly to there, we passed by Baker Street, and he asked me to take my revolver for 'later'. Once in the library, Holmes showed me a table, inviting me to sit down and when he was about to go to do his research, he turn back to me and taking out a small leather notebook, he said, 'Here. You might find something interesting to read concerned to the last days.'

I took the book with some amazement and I prepared myself to look it. When I opened at the first page, I was able to notice that it was a private diary. When I looked up to say a comment to my companion, he was already gone. With an improper curiosity for a gentleman, I searched the pages regarding to the last days, as my friend had pointed out. Finally, I began to read.

'_.Lately, in my mind there is a disorder of unconnected thoughts. Thoughts that I am ashamed to confess are against the law and the ethic. And they go over and over again to the same point. Robert. Maybe, it is the fact of having shared so many years by now with my apartment partner, but I am not able to stop thinking in him. Whether __it is about his warm eyes, his smile or the smallest of the details of his ordinary life. If I believed in pagan acts, I would undoubtedly say that I am under the influence of a black magic spell._

_Maybe that is why I am in a rushed engaged with Kathy Stewart. Although it is true that I have feelings for her, sincerely, I must admit that are not strong enough to fulfil me with the right happiness that love is supposed to carry with him. There is the chance that it is a mere act of cowardice the try to escape before I sin. However, it is the only choice for me left. Because__, even if I accept to act against the church, the only thing that my acts could bring is the lost of a friend and prison.'_

And it went like that for a lot more pages. Astonished, I closed the notebook and I looked it as if was a carrier of a course. Submerged I n my thoughts, a voice surprise me from my back.

'Do you find it and interesting reading?'

'Holmes!' I whispered with surprise as low as I could for being at a library.

'Come, let's go, I already got what I wanted. I hope that you don't mind if we go walking, so we will be able to argue while we are a while at the outside.'

The sun was descending when we went trough the exterior door of the library. A soft breeze caresses our face, and you were still able to see some persons walking, coming back to their homes for dinner. Holmes waited until the streets were desert before he started talking.

'All right, Watson, I promised you to share my theories, and I shall proceed to explain you as much as I can,' said Holmes. 'As you may have noticed, there is a strange attitude in Jeffrey Newton diary.' the detective stopped and looked me expecting me to talk. I took a while to do so.

'He was… he was…' I foolishly mumbled. 'He was homosexual.' I finally said.

'However, would you understand me if I told you that Newton hadn't broke any law, not even from the church?' asked me Holmes.

I stared my companion without understanding.

'First,' he began to explain, 'it is necessary that I show you some things that I have found in the crime scene and the true reason for which the unhappy Newton was murdered. The aim of all what happened it is around our friend Robert Laurie and some misfortune incidents that took place. If you remember, Laurie had been working with me for a really long time now, back down to when we solved the case of the duke. In that time, when the duke was imprisoned, a lot of photographs were taken that then appeared in all the papers, and coincidently Laurie appeared in one of those photographs and that was what detonated all the events followed. Are you with me?'

'I am still not able to understand in what is what Laurie is involved in all this' I admitted.

Holmes far from being impatient enjoyed that moment of supremacy.

'It is not surprising that it is hard to understand, because as I always say, is a serious mistake to establish theories without having first all the precise data. Before he was working with m, Laurie had been making some personal research in the laboratory, and he found something of vital importance. He had found the way of making silver into gold. And that, my dear friend, is dangerous enough for a several people to set a price upon his head, literally.'

Then I was able to have a vague notion of where Holmes was heading to.

'Although there is still some things ascertain, however, if you accompany me I will be able to solve them. But first there is some more light to give to the issue. During his research, sadly, Laurie was careless and he didn't realize to protect his objects of study, therefore it came to bad ears. Unfortunately, the nets of Moriarty are too big, and there are still persons who were, so to speak, his disciples. One of them is who I suspect the criminal mind behind Newton murder, but not the perpetrator, undoubtedly for the mistakes made in the crime scene. Being there, I had found some paper that didn't belong to either of the tenants.

Sherlock Holmes took out of his coat a couple of paper clippings. Before returning to his explanation, he handed them to me.

'As you have definitely known to appreciate, the brutality with which the murderer had been done made spatter of blood to fall on the walls and furniture. The book where I found these papers that protruded from it in a very notable way, but not enough for Lestrade or Jones to notice it, was splashed. And in a fashion that if the papers had been there from a beginning, there would be spattered. Therefore, they were placed there after the murder. So, what would be the purpose to deposit those papers there?' he asked me.

I thought it for a while, striving to apply the methods that I had learnt with him. Finally, I said clumsily, 'He wanted to somehow incriminate Laurie in Newton murder.'

'Exactly!' congratulated me Holmes. 'And what's more, he wanted to disclose his secret, making sure that it was given to him capital punishment.'

'His secret?' I asked surprised.

'Look here,' said Holmes taking me to one of street lightening and making me to stretch the papers. 'Watch this woman, Jennifer Jackson according to the article, is she familiar to you?'

I observed her carefully, and despite the fact that she seemed vaguely familiar, I could not attribute her face to any name. Holmes watched my disconcert and taking a pen from between his clothes, he draw a thin moustache to Miss Jackson. When I saw the picture again, I was astonished. Finally I had realized who it was and the surprise was too big.

'It is Laurie!' I cried.

'It seems to me that now you are able to understand Newton's confusion.' said Holmes.

'But…' I mumbled still disconcerted. 'But, why World someone do something like this?'

'I think that I can understand her reasons. However, we will have a clearer statement when we are back to Baker Street. I asked Lestrade to take Laurie there after he ended declaring at the police station. But before, we must go to another place, to the apartment that he shared with Newton. Probably, there we will able to solve what is left of this case,' said Holmes. 'Now, tell me Watson, have you got your revolver prepared?'

When I tried to get my bearings, I realized that Holmes had taken me while we were walking to a stable from the building were Laurie lived. I was about to hear to the door of said place when Holmes took me by the arm and he tug to a side pointing the deserted side building. With a small ruse on his behalf, he managed to open one of the windows; we entered there as if we were thieves. Indicating me to wait for a moment, Holmes headed to the other side of the building and spied the courtyard. Then, after he checked that none was there, we went the stairs up to the third floor and entering in one of the rooms, we went out trough a window. As if we were acrobats we climb to the adjoining building and we entered to Laurie's apartment. After watching carefully around and go into the two rooms, Sherlock Holmes came out triumphant, and with a smile, he said, 'Fine, it seems that we are on time. As you might appreciated we could enter without using a key, the only difference was that the killer used the backyard to get in.'

'And what are we going to do now?' I asked.

'Now, my dear Watson, all we have left to do is to wait. The killer of Newton is going to return.'

'But, why would he risk doing so?' I investigated.

'My dear friend, with the data I gave you, you should be able to apply the deductive methods that you have learnt thanks to my company.'

'It might be, perhaps, because last time he couldn't get the papers that contain Laurie's research to transform silver into gold.'

'Very good,' celebrated my companion. 'And why he couldn't get them the last time, when he killed Newton?' he asked me.

'Because the housekeeper came bringing the food and he had to get away.' I said visionary.

'That's right,' said Holmes. 'As you might have noticed when we were here the first time, the stairs creak a lot, therefore the killer had enough time when he realized that Mrs. Woods came up to escape trough the window.'

Next, Holmes headed to the cupboard that was in the room. He opened one of its doors and he inspected it.

'Excellent,' he said, all I do was to stare at him surprised, Holmes noticed my look. 'We will able to hide both of us there expecting the criminal.'

At the beginning I thought that he was joking, however, his persistent look made me realize otherwise. So, although a bit insecure, I entered inside the cupboard opening the other door, Holmes stood beside me and took care of leave ajar both doors until he only left a small gap of light. The wait was made in silence; Holmes did not talk to be able to hear the killer when he came in. Therefore, my mind started to ramble around what had happened recently. Laurie who was indeed Miss Jackson, Jeffrey Newton who thought that he was in love with his best male friend when it was actually a woman. Maybe that was why I felt that tension flouting in the air. Suddenly, the contact of my arm with the side of Holmes acquired a great importance inside me. With only a small move I could touch him and not necessarily in appropriate fashions. Practically with turning my head I could claim his lips against mines.

Frightened, I tried to banish those thoughts from my mind. But they were vane tries. I tried to control myself, to avoid that Holmes noticed the kind of feelings that overwhelmed me. However, I was sure that my troubled breath gave me away. I did not dare to turn around and check if my companion could notice it or not, for fear of crossing with his look.

But then, when I thought that I could not take it for any second more, something happened that changed the tension in the air with a dangerous, sharp one. A noise had warned us. Holmes and I exchanged a quick glance. The killer had entered.

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And yes, it ends with a cliffhanger.

I know that the begining might be at bit boring, but it was necessary to the 'sexual tension' part. I hope that so far you like how the mistery is being solved, and that you don't find it farfetched. I'm pretty poud of it after the diary. And the diary was intended to be longer (because at the beginning thought that it was going to be a short chapter if not) but then I realized that it wasn't necessary.

And it was beautiful to write the 'my dear watson' XP

And I guess that now you know what 'The secret of the alchemist' is.

Hope you liked it!


	3. Explanations

**A.N.:** Well, finally after coming back from my holidays and my first two weeks of college i finished this episode. Warning, it is pretty long. But i wont entertain you before ou read, so. Go!

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**Chapter 3**

**Explanations**

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I would have jump immediately after Newton's killer, if it was not because of Sherlock Holmes who stopped me putting a hand on my chest. That momentarily distracted me of seriousness of the situation; I was able to feel my heart accelerate excited by the contact, and at the same time, nervous, fearing that he could notice with his fingers my fast beating. Trying to vanish those forbidden thoughts pf my mind, I focused my attention upon what was happening outside the cupboard. Some strong steps were heard, followed by the squeak of a door that was opened, and then again the steps. Then Holmes looked at me briefly and opened slowly one of the cupboard's doors. With the revolvers ready on our hands to fire, we advanced with soft steps, trying not to warn of our presence to the intruder, to Laurie's room where he was. We were soon to enter when he came out of the bedroom holding several papers on one of his hands.

His appearance was fierce; he had black hair with noticeable sideboards that attached to his beard, one not very thick but noticeable because of its colour and the paleness of his face. He had thick lips curved in an ugly grimace and the black eyes that accompanied it did not soften his expression. His complexion was sturdy but not strong. When he saw us, he started to run wildly, he run into Holmes and I, destabilizing us and stopping us from operate our guns correctly. I stood up from the ground faster than Holmes and heading to the window and I managed to shoot one time before the killer was lost from sight.

'Good done, Watson! I think that you had hurt him in the leg.' congratulated me Holmes. 'However, our enemy is persistent and he already has run away. But even we will better off with it. We had earned a couple of days before they realized that that paper he obtained are the wrong ones and strikes again.

'So what had he taken?' I asked.

'As soon as Laurie realized of the danger that his discovery entailed, he destroyed everything related with his research. And in its place he left behind false documents, ones very well thought that will take a considerable time to find out its uselessness to who it takes them.'

'And do you intend to share with me how do you wish to catch the killer?' I asked without many hopes of finding a positive answer.

'I can do something different.' said he. 'Let's get back to our home where Laurie is waiting for us, and who undoubtedly will give us an extensive talk relating his story and clearing the dark points that are left in our case.'

We get out, and whatever it was for fortune or a fate coincidence, we rapidly found a cab. When we entered, we found Laurie sat in a chair staring in front of him, lost in his thoughts. His position briefly reminded me of Holmes in one of his melancholic moods. When he heard us arrive, he turned his face in our direction and spoke:

'I assume, judging the fact that both of you are caring revolvers between your clothes and because you have the semblance of somebody who had waited for many hours, that you were in my flat waiting for the arrival of Newton's killer.'

'Indeed.' asserted Holmes. 'And you based only in that?'

'No.' answered Laurie. 'It was, after what had happened, the most probable that you would be doing. Furthermore, I think that I know which the reason of Jeffrey's murder is and that is not inaccurate to suppose that you have arrived to the same conclusion.'

'I believe it is time that you proceed to tell us your true story.' said Holmes.

'I suppose that I owe you that, after considering that you had known how to keep my secret.'

'To be honest,' I interceded, 'he had not completely kept it. He had shared it with me.'

'And yet,' said Laurie, 'he had told it now and not from the beginning.'

'Since when did you know it?' I asked shocked to Holmes.

'To be honest with you, my dear friend, I knew it from the first moment that I saw him.' said Holmes.

'He can't be fooled.' asserted Laurie.

My silence was more of enough for Holmes.

'As I have previously told you, now you will be able to understand better the reasons of our companion.' then he turned his face to the young one. 'If you honour us, Laurie.'

With a nod of his face and stretching out one of his hands, he indicates us to sit down. After, he put his hands together, entwining lightly his finger and after a sigh, he proceeded to speak:

'I was born twenty-five years ago under the name of Jennifer Jackson in a family of good income but short of a prestigious name enough for the town. My father, Howard Jackson had achieved a good fortune with soy plantation, so good that since the moment I have memory all he had to do was give order to the labourers. Holder of an authoritarian personality that helped him to survive in the rude business of great lands, he ruled the house with strong hand, demanding that we were what it is expected from the family of a landowner. However, we were always a great disappointment for my father, both me and my brother Jeremy, born a year later than I.

"My brother was expected to be somebody brave and all the makings to be a good soldier, but to my father's regret, Jeremy was quiet, he preferred the good life of an academic, before the violence of war. My mother, on the other hand, was docile enough for being consider a good wife, and yet, when my father was out of the house he lets us free from the impositions in which we were trapped diary, we were allowed to be ourselves. And I never was feminine enough for having chances to get a good husband, so it was my mandate; I preferred to play with frogs rather than with dolls. So far I had been growing up, and the demands to behave as a lady increased, I started to envy man's freedom to be whatever they wanted to be. Because, for example, if it wasn't because my brother inherited my mother's docile attitude, he could be who he chose to be, he just needed to gain independence and society will receive him with its open arms in the job or university he wished. Instead, I, as a woman, everything I could expect or obtain was get married and provided with a couple of kids to my husband. But that never was capable of feeling satisfied with such expectations for my future; I wish to be a professional, a scientist, and not the allowed professions as nurse or governess. Without taking into account, that being a woman I would never be heard. But yet, living my life as a man was a fantasy to be stayed in the world of crazy dreams.

"Maybe, eventually, I would have taken the same decision I ended taking. But definitely, everything was clear to me when I was force to engage with Stuart Morrison. Morrison was, even when is hard to believe, more rude and sexist than my father. When he was little, he used to scary the other girls in town with worms and abused the little ones, from what my brother used to be victim. As the elder sister, I found my duty to protect him, which made Morrison angry for not giving in to his arrogance. I would never have imagined that this would cause his interest in me while growing up. I guess that he believed that making me his wife would be the way to finally tame me and take revenge from all the time that I challenge him as a child. My father saw with good eyes the marriage, because it would bring to our family the prestige that didn't had because Morrison's family was from long ascendancy in the town. While, Morrison had a great interest in the money of my father.

"At the week that my new future was told to me, Morrison came to our home. And wanting to communicate me my news duties as wife and under the influence of alcohol that had became his addiction, he made a pass with me and tried to kiss me. I rejected him pushing him away. Morrison infuriated and started to attack me, despite my vane tries to defend myself. I won't tell the ways in which he humiliated me. For when my brother came home, he founded me in a corner with tearful eyes and a strong decision taken. If was not worthy to set a report because Morrison did not only had prestige in town, but he was also the son the mayor. Once I managed to my brother to promise me that he would not try to revenge, because it would only be detrimental to him, we set to plan Jennifer Jackson's death.

"My brother and I did some research; we looked for a name that would not attract attention and the way to set in society as Robert Laurie. I chose London for its bigness and because a new person wouldn't be noticed. Once all was planned, we did a picnic day between the Jackson family and the Morrison. After a time, I said that I wanted to take a walk. I went to the river and entered in the water. I drop my hat, letting it flow down the river and I gave a false scream of help. Knowing the place since childhood, I knew wit currents use to swim away. When both families came down, all that they were able to find was the hat clung to a branch. Some days later, I was declared dead and the body was never found.

"Then, I continued swimming until I reached some plants on the other shore. There was a suitcase with some clothes given by my brother and money for my life. I arrived to London seven years ago; I began living in a hotel of poor conditions. I had several modest jobs until some day working in the postal office, I met Jeffrey Newton. Despite the fact that living with a man implied a risk because I could be caught, my economy required it and being capable of giving a permanent address would be useful to me in order to get a better job. Sometime later, I managed to get into university and after several years I got my doctorate in chemistry degree. For some years, I tried to do some personal researches, but all took me to dead roads. I had to maintain a job, after failing as an independent investigator; I have worked as an assistant. Working for several people, I got what was going to be the basis for my first successful investigation. Such was my emotion and passion because I was discovering that I was negligent and I didn't take any notion of the risk involved in the discovery of how to transform silver into gold, nor the greed that existed behind that. I was self-confident because of the good fortune that I had had, that I did not have any precaution. Regrettably, I even let myself be photographed, exposing my face. But I wouldn't have noticed it, if it wasn't for my brother who send me a secret letter not too after I finished my own experiments. After that photography, casually enough, Morrison had travelled to London for business and he could have known that I was still alive. Being the man he is he would never rest knowing that I had misled him and he would search for revenge. Luckily, I still hadn't published the result that I had obtained and I destroyed them before it was too late. I made fake papers that I kept in its place. But several months followed and nothing had happened yet so I lowered my guard. I continue working and making experiments. Then, all that you already know happened.' he ended his story.

I watched the young man, or woman to be more precise and I could not help but to feel touched by the tragic life in which he took part. Then, I turned my head to look at Sherlock Holmes.

'Very well, knowing more about the personalities of one of ours enemy is very helpful.' said he. 'When they send Morrison back for Laurie, we will able to capture him. Would you be able to specify how long it would take them to know the falseness of the papers that you let them to take?'

Sometimes, I could not stop surprising myself with the incredible coldness of my friend.

'Considering that they follow with care the steps I put, and taking into account the places where I wrote with complicated calligraphy to give them different possibilities, it should give us a leeway of six days.' answered Laurie.

'So you won't have anything to worry about anything until that day.' said Holmes.

'I am not worry about me.' asserted Laurie. 'I am the only knower of the right fashion for transform silver into gold. Therefore, they will try to keep me alive. Is about you, however, whom I'm afraid of. Morrison will not be satisfied with taking me as he prisoner, but he would like to watch me suffer, specially, killing the ones that are close to me. In which case, I must ask you to let him to take me in his power and that I face the consequences by myself. I would not be able to carry more deaths in my conscience. You are already at risk only for sharing my secret.' his eyes had a shaking sparkle.

'I have been impolite.' said Holmes, may it be for his own chivalry or for avoiding a sentimental situation. 'To-day has been a rough day for you and you weren't able to rest. You already know my room so I guess that you will make yourself comfortable.'

Laurie left after thanking and apologizing for the trouble occasioned. Once he entered into Holmes's room and closing the door, the detective turned in my direction.

'I do hope that the explanations given have been praiseworthy.' said he.

'They had totally been, but there still left to be explained what we are going to do to capture the killer.' I answered.

'That, my dear Watson, would be known in due course. Until then, there is nothing to worry about.' he answered. 'However, before, it is essential that first you give me the explanations of the previous events.'

'Explanations for what previous events?' I asked confused.

'My dear friend,' started to say Holmes, 'you won't lie to me telling me that you did not feel that unusual tension inside the cupboard.'

'I must admit that being there waiting for a killer meant a certain moment of anxiety.' I lied unable to confess the impurity of the thoughts that I had had.

'Oh, but that's not what I meant, my Watson. Besides, we had already faced dangerous situations before and you have always shown a good nerve control.' Holmes said while he got close to me.

Unconsciously, I had got closer to the wall moving back, until there was no space left. Holmes did not stop till our body almost brushed and our face were a few inches away.

'You can't deny that you had felt it, because I felt it too. Your respiration agitated, your heart quicken the frequency of its beats, you started to sweat despite the lack of heat, just as you are doing right now. Definitely, there is something happening between us that is impossible to continue ignoring.' he said while I could feel his breath in my mouth.

Holmes stared at me with those dark brown eyes, studying me, willing to analyze the slightest of my reactions. But to his disappointment my face stayed immutable, paralyzed under the surprise, incapable of reacting. Because my mind couldn't process in few seconds all that stayed under lock and key for so many years. Slowly, it grew inside me the certainty of the feeling hidden for so long, that were always there despite that I constantly found excuses to deny it. And yet, I couldn't accept it, it went against everything that I had once learnt, against law and church. Again, the barriers were rise powerful, separating me from ruling of my heart.

And while I felt the whirlwind of opposite thoughts devastate my mind, there was a part of me that realized of something more. Holmes had planned all along from a beginning. Maybe fortune played in his favour, but he had not handed me that diary by coincidence. He had done it on purpose. He had wanted to raise the idea of homosexuality in my mind; he had wanted me to feel the temptation in the cupboard. He had wanted us to be in the position that we were.

But the lack of response from my part, beyond doubt was making a notch in Sherlock Holmes. His self-confidence had been truncated. He slightly flinched with his body and in his eyes doubt began to appear. He seemed to be frightened of having said something that had ruined permanently our friendship. And that discern of his soul and kind heart was what ended to break down any obstacle left I n me. The flesh is weak and my willing had limits.

With a moan, I surrendered and abruptly shortening the remaining distance between Holmes and I, I put my lips onto his. The surprise owned his expressions, but he recovered immediately. He put his arms around me and he deepened the kiss. The guilt for what we were doing didn't stop to pester my mind, nut for once I decided to ignore it. I didn't want to miss a second of feeling his body against mine. Soon the clothes were more than the ones needed. Our hands were not enough to explore each other. Years of repressed fantasies and desires came to the surface.

Holmes moved away from for a seconds and closing his mouth to my ear, he whispered.

'John,' he said in a pant that sent shivers down my dorsal spine, 'your room.'

With our lips stick together as if a to-morrow didn't exist, with clumsy steps we advanced to the door and I felt at my back the goatee to open the door. We entered without seeing where we were walking, suddenly, I felt myself falling over the bed. And in the same fashion that I felt the mattress hit my back, the importance of what we were doing stroke me. I stopped and I watched Sherlock in the eye, searching for an answer to what was happening. His eyes captivated me once more. Many could assert, even I had done it more than once, that the man that was in front of me did not have a heart. But they were wrong, because the love that I saw reflected in those eyes was such that could melt the coldest and hardest of the icebergs. I did not doubt again, little cared me the consequences that we might face.

We proceed to take off our clothes, until there was no one left to take. That was when Sherlock step aside to contemplate me naked as if he had waited centuries to do it. I must admit that I took advantage of the moment too. In spite of knowing that man for so many years ago, the personality he was showing to posses was so uncharacteristic of him. But somehow it was as I have been there for always. I knew, even I would never hear it coming from his lips, that he loved me.

I kiss him deeply, I covered with my hand and lips every inch of his body. And then, we became one. As if we were meant to be one for one other. Finally, after wild waves of pleasure, we finished merged in a hug.

Between pants, trying to recover our breaths, I got back the notion of where I was. In my bed with Sherlock Holmes naked in my arms; in the 221b of Baker Street. In the room below slept Mrs. Hudson and in the room next door slept Laurie who had probably heard the snatch of our lust. Alarmed, I put on guard. Holmes seemed to read my mind.

'Don't worry.' he said. 'He won't tell us, he also has a secret to hide.'

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Yep, I know. It is very long, but I just didn't know were to cut it and it wasn't enough for two chapters. So...

At least the slash begun!

I hope that you like Laurie's story and that it wasn't too boring or Mary-Sue. The angsty past is just part of all my stories. XD

And the slash part was intended to be more hot but I'm not that good. I have a very dirty mind to put it into words. XP

Hope you liked it!


	4. Eyes in the night

Sorry, I know it has been a month since the last time I updated, but with college I have no life. Hope you like it!

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**Chapter 4**

**Eyes in the night**

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They were the happiest days of my life. Laurie had stayed for his own protection in Holmes' room. This was not any problem for the detective, because since that night he slept with me in 'our' bed. When we woke up, we have breakfast together, Laurie used to accompany us and despite that we kept some appearances with him, we did not have to hide our relationship before him, who accepted us with a smile. I must admit that it meant a small relief between the thousands doubts and worries that assaulted me late a night when Sherlock fell asleep in my arms.

During the day, every one of us kept busy in different activities. Sometimes, Holmes and Laurie argued about the results of the experiments they made together, while I read the paper. Other ones, it was me who argued with Laurie about politics or any other current topic. Some other times Sherlock argued about the possible outcome of some of his trivial cases. Those days were poured with a great feeling of peace and tranquillity and the night full with lust and passion. The fact that there was still a killer on the loose seemed distant in time.

'All right,' said Holmes one morning, 'I guess that we should prepare ourselves. Today must be the day in which Morrison will try to capture again.'

'I presume.' answered Laurie.

'And you would tell us how do you intend to capture him?' I asked.

'Sadly, we must use our friend Laurie as the bait.' answered Holmes. 'The possibilities that they know that you are here are too high and suspecting who the criminal mastermind behind all this must be, we can not take you hidden from the back door. Then we should, Watson and I, escort you in full view of everyone up to the laboratory, where we should leave you apparently. Doubtless, they won't be there because of the presence of other investigators, students and professors. Therefore, once the sun has set, you should walk towards your home. There is no need for you to worry about, because both of us, as Lestrade, who will help us to make the arrest official, will be following you from the shadows.

Then, Holmes approached to one of the bookshelves and moving away one of the books; he took out an old revolver from a small leather box.

'I always assumed,' said Holmes, 'that since my profession, having a reserve gun would be of great use.' he explained while he give it to Laurie stretching one hand. 'So it seems the occasion today.'

'Thank you.' answered Laurie.

'I imagine that you know how to shoot.' asked Holmes.

'Perfectly,' he said, 'my father used to have a similar model.'

'Do you have a good aim?' I asked concerned.

'A child brimming of energy does not have many things to do in a farm. Target shooting was one of my favourite activities.' was he answer.

After lunch, we went in a cab to the university were Laurie worked. Once we assured that the young man had entered the building, we went away again. We asked the driver to take us towards the rooms we shared, but in the middle of the way, Holmes stopped him and we descended, after the detective give him a generous gratuity for him to follow to Baker Street. We headed to Scotland Yard where we look up for Lestrade, who was waiting for us. We went out in company of a handful of his most discreet men. We had to hide ourselves, however, before leaving; the inspector demanded an explanation from Holmes.

'I must know in which danger I'm exposing my men to.' said Lestrade. 'At least, tell me the name of the person who is behind this.'

'His name is Commandant Morrison. In Moriarty times, he was a henchman that drove little attention upon himself. Overshadowed by his boss and probably because of fear, he didn't dear to rise as the leader of his own criminal web. After his boss' death he was still under the orders of Colonel Moran. Thanks to the path of our actions that let him in prison, we had cleared his way for his raising. Being now the next heir of Moriarty's organization and tracing the same paths in crime of his old boss. In addition, searching for easy ways of making big amounts of money, he heard, undoubtedly, about Laurie's research, that would make the owner of the formula incredible rich. So he sent an assassin after him, but he was not as intelligent as his predecessor therefore he made several mistakes as sending his own son. A violent and savage man whose greed blinds him with hate and who eagerly wants to take part of his father's business. His ferocity took him to commit that hateful crime and his blunders give him away and will make him attack again. However, you must not be surprised, if when you imprison him, he starts to narrate fantastic stories about Laurie. His proud, one he finds himself cornered, won't let him give in until all those he consider enemies fall too, even if it is not more than a desperate try.

I could notice how Holmes told the story in such fashion to protect Laurie, even though he was his client, it seemed to me caring from his side and I had to resort to all my willpower to not give us away right there. Taking advantage of the last hours with sunlight, we went to the university. Lestrade disperses his men in even groups, sending them to hide between in the nooks of the houses.

The night threw its shadows upon us. A bad feeling sent shivers down my back. I did not expect a battle till death between great forces of good and evil, but I felt for sure that I would see blood. But used to live with Holmes, I had learnt to scorn all referring to feelings and I ignored it. It was a big mistake of what I will never be able to stop regretting.

When the only light came from the streetlamps, Laurie went out with the hands in the pockets, staring down and walking slowly, as someone who walks unworried or lost deep down in his thoughts. Nothing in his appearance would give away that he knew what he was going to face. After all, I should not be surprised; he had years playing the role of a man. Behind him, some persons walked out –professors, by theirs looks- that soon dispersed. The young man was left alone, not even his shadow was accompanying him. He walked after Holmes instructions down the deserted streets that headed to his home.

Then, a shoot was heard in the darkness, breaking the only streetlamp that illuminated the place, the others were to far away to reach us with its light. The silhouette of a man appeared next to Laurie. I was able to recognize the same person that we had seen rummaging in his stuff and a limp confirmed it. I went swiftly into action to defend our friend, and I shot Morrison in his healthy leg. Another shot echoed with mine, Laurie, following the same concept than I, hit him in the same place- the killer was now laying on the floor upon a blood puddle that increased its size. All guns were aiming in his direction, preventing from he to attempting on somebody else life.

Before he started to speak, Morrison had a fit of laugh. An evil, sinister and despicable laugh; worthy of the son of the devil.

'It seems that Mr. Laurie is well prepared' he said mocking.

His voice oozed poison, his eyes seemed to sparkle with a joke he only seems to find funny before the look filled with hate of the young investigator, with a resentment carried from several wounds of the past and present.

'I couldn't afford that somebody else take this mission, I had to make sure to see it with my own eyes. I couldn't let somebody to fail.' Holmes heard carefully all the information that give away something about his father business. 'But easy, I still have one more card to play.

With a quick movement, he raised the hand that still carried the gun. That night would be witness of two more gunpowder explosions. While Morrison lied dead in the ground with a shoot in his temple, Laurie had been hurt in his right shoulder. It was in a second fraction what took me to observe the officials that stared surprised, asking themselves who had been the maker of the shoot that had been heard. Holmes was not surprised, while I bend over to examine Laurie. The wound did not look serious, even though it was deep. Apparently, it had not hurt any important vein or artery and it had entered without damaging any bone. However, the bullet was still there and it had to be removed if it was wanted the risk to contract an infection reduced. I looked Laurie into his eyes to check his lucidity and a worried look welcomed me. I turn my head instinctively to Holmes before everything connected in my mind, he slightly nodded. Morrison intention had never been to kill Laurie, but to expose him. It was a wound worth to take care about in a hospital, where when they wanted to take him out his clothes to examine him, they would discover his secret.

Lestrade came back some time later, out of his breath, after making a futile persecution. After inspiring and exhaling several times, he spoke:

'You think he'll survive, doctor?' he asked.

'The wound is not serious, but the bullet must be removed.' I said.

'All right, we'll take him to the hospital then.' said he.

'No.' answered Holmes. 'We are more close to our home, there; undoubtedly, my dear doctor Watson would be able to operate him without any problem.'

'If you believe that it is what's more appropriate.' said Lestrade watching me, waiting for me to argue against what Holmes had said. 'As soon as my men come, we will take his body to the morgue. Do you know who the killer might be?'

'Of course.' answered Holmes with that arrogance typical of him. 'Affection is not common among our enemies. Apparently, Morrison senior can forgive a mistake, but not two. In addition that he feared that his son could say something that uncovered all the organization operations, after all, dead tell no stories.

'How can a father do that to his own son?' I asked horrified.

'For Morrison father, he stopped being when he failed. To operate in such business they can not afford to have feelings.'

'Luckily for us that we have you then, Holmes.' said Lestrade.

'We should take care our friend right now.' I reminded them.

Both men looked at me, and they came close to help me rise Laurie and put him in position so I could make a tourniquet with the tie I had took off. The young man tried to help us putting his weight as well as he could, but at this point he barely could remain conscious. Baker Street was seven blocks away and then we only ad to do two more blocks. Lestrade insisted to accompany us but after arguing that he was not needed and that he should take care of Morrison's body, we managed to get rid of him. When we arrived to our place, Holmes went ahead to open the door to let me in. I deposited Laurie upon the table we used to have breakfast and for the first time I thanked to God Holmes's addictive habits, because with some of his cocaine solution I made him drowsy so he did not feel the pain. Then, with some effort I managed to remove the metallic object, I cleaned the wound with some alcohol and I burned it a little, and then I gave him some stitches. Thanks to the cocaine Laurie barely felt a discomfort in his arm. Once I had finished, we took him to Holmes' bedroom where he could rest and sleep. After I closed the room's door, the detective cornered me against one of the walls.

'Our friend is in his room recovering, the police are after Morrison, but I doubt they'll catch him, and there is nothing else that we can do, at least for tonight.' enumerated Holmes. 'So I suggest we take advantage of it.' a kink sparkle lightened his eyes.

Since that first time, I had discovered my own personal drug. I could understand better Holmes attraction towards cocaine, because it was the same that I had towards him. I could notice that the solution-bottle, lately, had not done anything more that to accumulate dust. I smile to myself when I realized that I was more than enough for the detective.

I kissed and nibbled his lips with hunger and lust while he covered my body with his hands. With clumsy fingers because of the adrenaline and endorphins rush that went through my veins, raising my heartbeat and shortened my breath. I managed to detach Holmes from his upper clothes. While he made a similar work with my pants, breaking that aguishly prison that those had became. My room and bed were to far away for the passion that overcame us and we were unable to go further than the floor of the place where we had started kissing. Then, I took care of his pants while he did the same with my shirt. Once in a while, I had to remind myself that I had to breath, since as be did not get apart unless it was extremely necessary and only to whisper our names in our ears. We explored each other lengths with our hands, within pants and groans I had to beg Sherlock to stop. I had to fulfil my thirst of him in another way, so I adapt my body upon his and with an accurate but delicate movement I entered in his being. I caressed Holmes in all his weak points that as a doctor and lover I knew in order to relax my companion, until he briefly nodded with his head pushing me to continue. Slowly, I started to move inside him, making harder and harder every time the charges, we made the point where we had to bite our lips to not scream. Finally, we reached the climax submerged in the most intimate of hugs.

While we were still recovering our breath, too captivate in our heaven that we created during nights, we ignored reality. So this one came and slapped us in our face. Undoubtedly, we had been incapable of hearing the sounds coming from the stairs and we had been alien to everything, until the door of the living room opened, making the appearance of Lestrade y Jones. Their faces were frozen in an expression of surprise, from who the quickest to recover was Jones, who immediately exclaimed:

'What is happening here?' although the truth was too expose for trying to hide it, the inspector's face started to take a scarlet shade and his eyes irradiate disgust. 'In name of the queen you are all under arrest!'

The screaming were enough to wake up Laurie, who still confused stuck his head to find out what was going on. The tragedy had finally unleashed. While Lestrade stood astonished in his place, with a rage of emotions that went trough surprise to anguish, Jones came to us with obvious intentions of arresting us. It took few seconds to Laurie to understand what was happening, and in a burst of his unconditional loyalty he put himself in the middle of the way between us and the inspector. But fate had wanted that Jones decided to took him out of the path in no other way but to pushing him in the chest. And despite that rage controlled him, he was able to notice what Laurie hide.

During the operation, I had removed the bandages that had been stained with blood that hide his femininity without taking care of replacing them after it. And what in other occasion or for another person would be an attribute, a gift from Mother Nature, was fatally recognized by the accidental touch of Jones.

'What is this?' scandalized shouted and ripped with a lack of consideration Laurie's shirt exposing his femininity. 'A woman in man clothes! Lust acts within two men accomplice from a woman! This is definitely too much!' then he looked his co-worker outraged. 'Inspector Lestrade, support me in this, you are all arrested in queen's name!' he repeated once more.

Lestrade looked us as if he was asking forgiveness while he took out the handcuffs.

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Hope you liked it!

And the drama is just beginning! at one chapter and prologue from the end!

Please, comment!


	5. Sentence

Well, as I promised here it is the fifth chapter, just a week later, as I had said.  
First, I want to thanks all who had follow it and commented it luckily, if I can, I'll upload the epilogue next week.  
I love you guys!

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**Chapter 5**

**Sentence**

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Jones, seconded by Lestrade on one side, leaded us to the police cart which with they had come. They put us in the back part with Lestrade accompanying us to watch over, while Jones hurried the horses. Once we were protected somehow from the other inspector's ears, Holmes started to talk.

'At the end you had not told us which was the reason for your visit.' said the detective with certain irony it could be say, but without letting denote a shred of emotion in his voice.

Lestrade looked him in the eyes for a while; once he made sure he was not joking and swallowing as if he putting together the courage, he answered:

'After having taken Stuart Morrison body to the morgue, I met with my men in the town where his father was the mayor. But his office and his household were abandoned. We even went to his country house they had, but it was empty too, we wanted, then, to check in a residence near it to know if the family knew anything about it. When we entered we were welcomed by the silence, as soon as we arrived the hallway we found the corpse of the only son of the house, Jeremy Jackson, who had been stabbed brutally the same as Mr. Newton.'

When he heard the name of the only familiar he cared about, Laurie let go a stifled moan. Lestrade looked us confused, Holmes sighed resigned and spoke:

'I think that at this point is unworthy hide that Mr. Laurie is the sister of Mr. Jackson.' he explained. 'And now, if you wish to proceed...'

'Later,' continued Lestrade as if he wanted to fill quickly the silence 'we ascertain the whereabouts of the rest of Jackson's family while we continued searching for Morrison. We find out that the sister and the mother had died and despite that the national record established that the father was still alive we were unable to find him. However,' continued Lestrade after a pause, 'the true reason for what we came to you was because when we came back to the morgue, we discovered the guardian dead and all trace for Morrison was gone.'

The silence seized the cart and it was only broken by Holmes bursting of laughing.

'I should have known it before.' he said with a smile that curved his lips but did not reach his emotionless eyes. 'It was all a tramp but it is already too late because we had fell right into it and were incapable of doing anything, I was a fool and it is going to be an unworthy end for the great Sherlock Holmes. You should write in one of your stories, Watson, so nobody does the same mistakes.

I looked him without wanting to believe the cold words that came from his lips, because if I did so, I did not think my heart would have resisted it. Finally, we arrived to Scotland Yard, the morning was cold and the thin clothes that Jones had let us dress with did not protect us. Laurie was taken to a different cell and the last picture I would ever have from him chilled my soul. His eyes were empty and defiant as those of the ones who had lost it all, while in his face were still the tears that had started to dry. It was one look that I had seen in Afghanistan in those men that would go in the front lines, facing the certainty of death and that had nothing left to lose, because all their friends were already dead. I had never seen Laurie alive since then.

In the cell where we were, there were only two more prisoners, each one sat down in one of corners against the wall, giving us to Holmes and me certain privacy to talk.

'In one fortuitous occasion I could say I told you so, but in this time the situation does not deserves it.' he said using once again that emotionless tone.

'What do you mean, Holmes?' I asked sick and tired of his constantly coldness.

'That I have always said if I surrender to my emotions I would my judgement and reasoning in severe trouble. However, I hadn't listened to myself, and I had five in to my feelings. If I hadn't been so blind for my desire towards you and your body, undoubtedly, I would have been able to avoid the way of the events happened.

'Then I may apologise to you, Sherlock Holmes, for clouding your judgement' answered I with tears frightening to accumulate in my eyes.

'It's not you who has to apologize, on the contrary,' said he, 'if I had not let my feeling to transcend, we would not found ourselves in this situation and Morrison's criminal web would had fallen.'

'So, you are sorry for what we have done?' I asked unable to help the tears to descend trough my cheeks.

'Yes.' was his answer.

That single monosyllable word was as a knife penetrating my heart and tore it apart. Suddenly, I was divested of my soul and capital sentence that hand above us did not seem such an unlucky future. I couldn't form any word.

'If I wasn't so blind, if I hadn't get distracted last night by your shapes while you were bend over attending Laurie, I would had examined Morrison's body and I would have noticed the fake shoot. Probably, I would had been able to find the poison with which undoubtedly-'

'Enough.' I interrupted him. 'I'm afraid that you should say it to someone who wants to hear it.' I said impregnate with hate every word, trying to return as much as I could the pain that I had been inflected.

'My dear Watson, I have the pleasure to know you for a long time and you are not a person who turns a deaf ear when it comes to my methods, less more when we have our days counted. I suppose that you should appreciate the final moments we have to enjoy our mutual company.'

'Do not hide in feeling when it is more convenient to you, Holmes.' I said with a violent voice, whispering to not recall the attentions upon us. 'If these are to be the last times that I should breathe in this world, I would like it to do it at peace.' I finished and I turned my back at him.

'John Watson,' said Holmes with a firm voice, 'I imagine that you are not exaggerating upon the words I had previously said.'

'I wonder if there is something that comes out of your lips upon what I shouldn't need to 'exaggerate'.' I answered.

'Well, never before you have been bothered in such way before.'

'Maybe it had been because before I had a life ahead or maybe because I had never made love with you or just because before I loved you.' I said stressing each time I used the word _before_.

'I noticed that you had used the past sentence to refer to the last thing' said the detective without letting be notice if he was disturbed or not by my words.

'Then your deductive abilities are still intact.' I answered harshly.

'Enough, Watson.' said Holmes sharply. 'I would not allow you to follow like this. Do you think that there is any way in which I could not regret every second of the pity hours we have ahead? If it wasn't for my own selfishness, my great desire about you, we would be now at Baker Street with any capital sentence about to set down above us. And what is more important, you would be safe. I would prefer a thousand times that you were still married with Mary, or that I have met you,' his voice trembled for a moment, the iron man had let his charade fade, ' or eve, that you hated me, before you were in this situation.'

Sherlock stayed looking me into the eyes, not leaving any barrier, giving me free access to his heart and soul. Everything I saw in those eyes denied the emotionless structure that he always showed. And then, something paralyzed my spirit and made me acknowledge completely the reality in which we were stuck. A tear rolled trough Sherlock's face. Something impossible that I should have never seen or that it should have never happened, because that could only mean one thing. Sherlock Holmes only could cry and expose himself so much his vulnerability for one reason. That there was not anymore a charade to maintain, ergo there was not tomorrow to live. That death had cornered us and was playing with us as the sadist hunter plays with the prey before he eats it. I understood that we only have hours left together. I got scared.

I was afraid as I have never been in my entire life, more of what I had had in the war. A cruel tightness took over my heart making it hard to breath. Assuming that my life was soon to be over would not be that hard if it was not that Holmes' would soon do it too. I wanted to cry like a baby and relief briefly the sorrow that had overcome me. But I also wanted to be strong and help Sherlock come over this rough time with me. However, the sadness was too big for my shoulders and curling up in my companion's arms I silently cry as no man should do it. But I was not a man anymore; I was just a person that was exceeded by the situation in which he was.

Sherlock cleaned my tears until they were gone. Then, protected by darkness we made love one more time. We stayed hugged to each other until the night was over.

'I love you, Sherlock.' I said when I felt that sun was soon to rise.

'I know.' answered Holmes.

I was not offended by not hearing a reciprocal answer; I knew that for him saying what he felt was assuming the end. Instead, silence it granted a false sensation of that there was still a little more time. Finally, the sun came out, the day started to get agitated. The officials started to cover the cells.

'Holmes!' I heard that shouted a voice that was getting near.

We looked at each other knowing and fearing the truth that was becoming a reality, it would be the last time that will get to see each other. Or at least, to feel our bodies connected by our hands together.

'I love you too, Watson.' whispered Sherlock into my ear, when the man in uniform came to take him.

He put his hands together at his back with the handcuffs. The image I got from him was an ephemeral reflection of the man I loved. His self-confident and straighten walking, his erect and proud head, were dulled by the insecurity that undermined his soul.

Not much later, they came for me too. I was taken to a new cell where my relationship was not unknown. There were several the times in which I was raped as a way of punishment for my sexual election. I only prayed in those times for that my companion were not going through the same. But my reason mercilessly vanished the hopes from my heart. The great detective would not go unnoticed and it was even possible that he was doing worst than I.

The trial was not too long; I was only present in a week of it. From where I saw Holmes in the distance, our eyes only established contact for briefly periods of time. It was a deep connection, in which each of us scrutinized in the other's soul searching for that warmth that we yearned so much. It was the other's familiar eyes, those that sent a balsam upon the wounds of the heart. The jury that we had, for our misfortune, was a conservative one. They did not hesitate a second when they established Laurie punishment, and with us they took a bit longer but they reached to the same point. The sentence was going to be carried out in few days.

They were grey and gloomy days, empty and without hope. The violence acts towards my person went on but at this point they were of little importance for me. I was away from my body, plunged into the melancholic sea of thoughts and memories in which my mind had become. The time in which the tragedy had been unleash, the capture, the sentence, the separation. And during the night, when the desperation threatened to end with me before time, the joy that we had shared in our daily life came to alleviate my sorrows. I remembered the first time I met him, when I ignored the world that was opening to my feet, the cases in which I had accompanied him, the laughs that we had had at the unison, all the moments in which he had showed to me that he loved me. A smile curved my lips before the sleep took control of me.

The sun went out a last time for me; the day of the execution had come. As a way to say goodbye, I was allowed to contemplate a last shiny and clear day. And as this story is coming to its end so is my final time. Laurie had been executed the day earlier, the gossip told me. Now we are left Sherlock and I, Lestrade is coming trying to control the emotion that threatens to come out from his eyes, he stays at a side, patiently waiting that I write my final words. I should give it to him if I want that some day people can know the complete truth about facts before judging Sherlock Holmes. Because as he had always said: 'It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. It biases the judgment.'

Lestrade looks at me.

'It's time.' he says.

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And well, I hope you like it. I love this chapter. Drama, drama. I could make it end this way but I know that you guys would hate me. So I'll make something more. The epilogue of course that is already half written.  
Please, comment! 


	6. Epilogue

**A/N:** I know it's been several months, but I have some excuses. One, I had moments of mid-exams, then the time passed and I forgot, I got into Star Trek and I watched The Original Series and 5 of the 6 movies in a month, I started the second semester at university and the again mid-terms. But thanks to a fanstic review I'm here again.

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**Epilogue**

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LATE MEMORIES OF FORMER POLICE INSPECTOR LESTRADE

Even tough is almost in my final stretch when I finally decide to make public this words, I had to do it while my brain still allows me access to those memories if I want mercy on me in the day of the Final Judgement. Nothing can justify the cowardice whit which I acted when no defending my friends, Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. They had not harm anybody and maybe if I had acted more feverishly I would have been able to reduce they sentence to several years in prison, at least. But I had not, I was too afraid of the consequences towards my person. Nor nobody else did of all those officials that had worked with the bohemian detective and learnt to esteem him.

Before the sentence was accomplished, I had managed to meet both. I had a chance of a private talk with Holmes who explain me without censure the details I need to know about Morrison and the true story of Laurie.

"Go with Watson." he said to me "Knowing him, I'm sure he had out everything onto paper. You will have a trustworthy version from him."

The meeting had ended and I had to leave. When I was rising, Holmes did the same briefly, stretching a hand as if he wanted to old me back.

"If you see him, tell him…" he said but he stopped and he sat down again lowering his eyes.

I was being one of the few privileged to whom it was allowed to see the great one falling. But it is something terrible, something that none should see. Because when the great ones fall, the small ones run out of hope.

"I'll tell him." I answered to the word he had shut.

"Thank you." he answered.

Then, it came the day of Laurie's execution, he had a look that it was usually seen in those halls of the death. It was the one of the dead in life, there was almost no difference between the live person and the corpse it would be later. Later, it was time to lead my friends to the bloody gallows. The sun shinned mocking of the clouds that dulled my heart.

"It's time," I had to tell him.

Before going our, he hand me the notes that you have read. It went a large time before I had the courage publish them. While we were walking to the fatidic place that would finish him, one we were safe of indiscreet ears, I tried to said what I was send to.

"Holmes wanted to tell you that…" but the word silenced to me too.

Watson understood, he nodded briefly and hinted a smile that died fast in his lips. When we reached the small square where they would be executed, a booing welcomed us both. People incapable of accepting what was different. But the insulting yells little meaning held to the doctor who only searched with his look the only person that he wanted to see before dying. And he found him, walking at the other side with the same destiny. Once they found each other, they wouldn't stop looking each other for a second. I understood them. It was the only thing left to clutch to. While I heard the charges, they seemed to me irrelevant.

At my understanding, in the moment that they put the black hoods over their head and they had to cut visual contact was when they really died. When I saw the hangman heading to activate the trapdoor, all the consequences of my actions –or lack of them –fell upon my shoulders.

"No!" was the exclamation that came out from my lips.

But it was already too late. I closed the eyes, incapable of watching what I had provoked. The noise of the trapdoor activating echoed in my heart. When they died part of me died to, my conscience would steal me all nights from that moment on. The peace had left my soul. That night, every official that had had the honour of working with him get together to drink in his honour.

"A bunch of cowards." as Gregson had put it.

And he was right, none of the presents had dared to interject in name of our _friends_. Maybe the outcome would have been the same, but at least we could excuse ourselves that we had tried and yet it wouldn't have been enough. But not even that justification we had in our behaviour. Bradstreet was soon eliminated by the alcohol, sending him to the land of dreams. Gregson with every drink that had was more and more violently. Soon he started to throw bottles and we had to take him to his home before he started a fight. I didn't do anything else that staying in a lethargy from which I took several years to wake up.

Morrison junior had never died, when he heard the shoot he activated a device that simulated the wound and he stuck a needle soaked with a poison that appeared a lack of life into one of his finger. After a time he woke up and from the inside it was easy to escape, explained me Holmes. His plan, from a beginning, had been to hurt Laurie so secret was disclosed. Undoubtedly, they would offer him a deal at exchange of his liberty. But everything failed when we found our friend in such compromising situation. The charges were to several for making a deal. However, I am honoured to say that he would have said no, witnessed in the trial how he tried to free Holmes and Watson if any charge, saying that didn't know his secret. But nobody believed him.

None else could find the way to turn silver into gold, as much as none could find the Morrisons. Many crimes should stay unsolved because of our cowardice. We had not only lost a friend but the world had lost the only one capable of bringing some justice. And all because of laws with a wrong moral.

But tragedies seldom stay alone. And the day we turn our back on our friends, our lives collapsed.

Tobias Gregson was left plunged onto drinking, a violent behaviour took control of him. It cost him his wife, who after having him drunk several nights, in one of them when he was coming late after having been between bottles, the house was empty. Now whit none to hold him back in his home, his character became bitter. Finally he was expelled from the police force and one night, after a hard argument, he was killed with the same bottle in which he had tried to drown his regrets.

Hopkins commended himself to follow the steps of his teacher. Every case he had, he focused on applying the methods that had been taught to him. Several time he was successful, but others, he was stunk without finding the solution to his problems. Which fill him with frustration and made him fall in deep depressive hollows. With time, they became more and usual until one day he locked himself in his home and he refuse to eat.

There were uncountable cases in that we watched a criminal escaped right under our noses for not finding the proper proofs, as much as the quantity of cases that were left unsolved. Not even thinking of the amount of innocents that ended with their life behind bars or in the gallows for a lack of someone who went in their defence. But more were the times in which we should grieve, the sinners were us. Everything that they had done was loving each other in a way that society was unable to understand.

And protect a friend.

Something we haven't dear to do. Everyone that had been touched by their grace, shared something more that guilt tormenting our minds. Whether those who had met a premature ending or those who were in the throes of death. They were the same final words. Sometimes said in an imploring whisper and other times in tormenting yells.

"It was my fault!"

Just as I said right now, while the pen writes my farewell. Because everyone were wrong, because everyone was right.

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In the loving memory of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

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THE END

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**A/N:** All right, this was the end. The epilogue wasn't that good, I like more the ending without it, but I had promessed it and I just couldn't let it end that way. I know, it was a sad ending, but the drama is so beautiful!

Thanks to everyone who read it, who waited it, everyone. I'm sorry I hadn't answered your comments, but I'm just toolow-memory.

I'm glad this story had ended and change it to Complete.

I had took certain historical license, actually, capital sentence for sodomy had disappear in the 1860s, but I think that the drama was worth iy.

Lately, I'm not writing more fanfics, only one hard story of House M.D. and maybe some Star Trek oneshots. Sincerally, when the summer comes I want to focus in trying to write my book. But this is not a farewell, jus a "See you".

Thank you to all that went with me in this tragedy, that I think that in this case is a better word than drama!

Thank you, I love you all!


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